The Sunspire [m] carved teeth

Well—she didn’t throw another rock.

But dirt and pebbles rained down on him, and with grim features, the man hoisted himself up—his trajectory fast, his mood incensed. Muskrat was unlike anyone he had met—every step taken was a mistake, he could feel it. But the draw of her was what called him—the challenge of her gaze.

“Didn’t work well for you last time, did it,” he crooned out, his tone still echoing—and yet closer.

Closer he moved.

He dared believe he finally caught glimpse of her flame-lit eyes.